Project Intelligence: Meia
by ShadowMoonSedai
Summary: War always has two sides - good and evil. Good will always be good and evil will always be evil, but somewhere between the two, there will always be that thin line... (included: file 1, file 2)
1. File 1

Project: Intelligence Subject: Meia 

File #1

            The day dawned as it always had. She kicked the blankets off of her legs and sat up, ducking her head to avoid hitting the shelf that hung over where she laid her head. For a moment, she allow the bare skin of her arms to warm in the brilliant yellow light pouring in from the east. Just another day…

            Without warning and somewhat surprisingly, a ringing erupted, filling the small room with a shrill sound. She lunged and pounced on a small black bag that sat abandoned on the floor. From it emerged a handheld phone that was shaking even as it was ringing. The press of a single button stopped the noise.

            "Maye," she stated briefly, sitting herself more comfortably on the floor. Her eyes focused on something across the room, a spider that was crouched on the pale green wall, small and unobtrusive. "No, I finished the job – no, I _did_, Deme. I fucking- don't tell me to clean up my language, Demetrius Allen. I _know_ that I did what I was told – the target was acquisitioned and disposed of. No one saw and I dumped her fucking body in the fucking Hudson." She was silent again, but a storm was beginning to brew on her pretty face. With an irate sigh, she pushed herself to her feet and rubbed the back of her neck. "Deme, _fine_, I'll do a double check. But I promise you, the bitch is dead." She gave a final nod and removed the phone from her ear. She let the device fall back into the bag and grabbed a jacket from where it hung over the back of a chair. As she pulled it on, she crossed the tiny room, to a small basket that sat on a shelf above the bed. 

            "Come here, Donalbain," she said quietly, scooping something out. It gave an insistent cry of protest and she shushed it gently. "You slept just as long as I did and you can sleep on the ride into town. Now, hush." It gave another protest, but she let it fall into the pocket of her jacket, where it was quiet. As she moved towards the door, she stopped again at the black bag and pulled out another small phone – this one was white in color, but the same shape and size as the other. It went into the other pocket.

            Outside, the air was chilled, destroying the image of a warm morning that the sun had previously hinted at. She shivered and frowned, as if her irritation would be enough to make the air around her warm. When it didn't work, she shoved both hands deep into the pockets of her jacket and hunched her shoulders. This was going to be a long walk…

            The trees and plants that she had made her home quickly gave way to asphalt and metal. This early in the morning, the cars that drove along the road were filled with half awake commuters who paid almost no mind to the small female form that trotted along the shoulder, bundled against the cold. If any of them did, she most likely resembled a runaway and who were they to get involved in another's business? That was one of the problems she had with humans – they were so self-centered!

            Across the highway and into the quiet bustle of a pre-coffee corporate America. Here, she received the occasional sidelong glance, which she returned with a hardy glare. These people offered her nothing and, in return, she would give them nothing. 

            She stopped under the cool glow of a Starbucks Coffee sign and reached into the pocket of her jacket that held the white phone. She pulled out a handful of bills and smoothed them out to count them.

            "I need to get paid more," she muttered as the total came up frighteningly low. "You would think, in my line of work…" Shaking her head, she pushed open the door and stepped inside. The heat was on inside and she gave an involuntary shudder as the sudden shift in temperature. The barista behind the counter, a tiny little thing with red hair and sharp grey eyes, gave her an appraising look. The girl shrugged herself deeper into her coat and glared sullenly at the woman as she walked up to the counter.

            "I'll have an Italian soda," she said quietly, dropping a five-dollar bill onto the counter. "Raspberry flavored… please," she added as an after thought. The woman took her money with a nod and a false smile and her customer stepped to the side. She pulled the handheld phone out of her pocket and dialed with the thumb of the hand that held the phone. The other was still buried in its respective pocket, the fingers wrapped around the traveler that had once again fallen asleep. 

            "This is Meia," she said into the receiver, her voice even. "Good morning, ma'am. Did you sleep well?" The barista handed her a foam cup and Meia took it, not even bothering with the change the woman held out in her other hand. She turned away and crossed the room to a small table in a corner of the coffeehouse. 

            "Good," she commented as she sat down and set the cup on the tabletop. She removed her other hand from her pocket and let the sleeping form of Donalbain roll onto the table. It uncurled itself, stretching out its tail first, then the rest of its body. It yawned as it arched its back, displaying a row of sharp teeth, evolution's answer to the feline love of fresh meat. 

            "My superiors know you survived the night," stated Meia, grinning slightly as the small cat-like creature sniffed the glass table, then turned its attention to the soda. "It may be a prime time for you to disappear for a bit. No, I understand that the summit is near, but Demetrius won't believe me for very long." Donalbain raised himself up on his hind legs and rested his tiny front paws on the edge of the cup, so that he could lean in and peer down into the smoky liquid. "I say this in your best interest, Miss Darl- no, I _understand_, but your head of security, no matter how well trained he is, cannot be prepared for what will be in store if my superiors decide to send a better force than myself after you. I spared you because I believe in the fragile peace you fight for, but, in my line of work, I am one of a few. This is your only warning – I'm sorry." She hung up the phone with a disgusted sigh at the same time that Donalbain leaned too far forward and tumbled head first into the soda. He was out before Meia could react and he went streaking for her chest, yowling so loud it brought the attention of the few early morning patrons and the barista. Meia wrapped her coat tightly around herself and the shaking, wet form, and smiled weakly.

            "This place has some really big rats," she commented idly, reaching for her soda. She raised it in a mock toast and took a sip, attempting to the best of her ability to ignore the cat hair that floated on the surface. Donalbain began struggling, unhappy again with the place where he had ended up, and she decided it was high time she moved locations. She stood and smiled warmly at the people still watching her as she dropped the soda in the trashcan and sprinted out of the door. She made it all the way across the street and into a park before Donalbain slipped out. He landed feet first in a fountain, which had been her goal, but couldn't jump out due to the depth of the water. She slid her jacket from her shoulders and scooped him up with one hand.

            "Stupid Felitty," she chided, dropping him onto her coat, where he crouched and sulked with a glare in his green eyes. "I can't even have a conversation without you getting in trouble. Good god." He regained his composure and sat up, glaring at her still. She sat down next to him on the edge of the fountain and scratched the top of his head with one fingernail. "Well, we've done it again, Donalbain," she stated, changing the subject. "We won't have a home to go to, at this point in time. What do you think we should do?"

            "You could join us." With a surprised gasp, Meia whirled, lost her balance, and almost ended up in the fountain. Donalbain hissed, slipping into instant guard-cat mode as Meia scrambled to her feet to face the person that stood behind her. It was boy, someone not more than her age, with strangely arranged hair and eyes as green as her cat's. He stood there, quietly, until she was calm enough to demand,

            "Who the hell are you?!" That didn't seem to be the right question, because he tilted his head to the side and almost seemed to frown at her.

            "You let Relina Darlin live – why?" The subject caught her so off guard, she almost fell over again. Instead, she found herself with her hand underneath the back of her shirt, the hilt of the knife suddenly lying heavily against her skin.

            "I asked first," she stated with cold politeness. "Tell me who you are and I'll tell you why I spared the woman." 

            "My instructions were to recruit you, Ms. Meia, not give you my life story," he answered flatly. 

            "Recruit me for…?" she inquired, her fingers wrapping around hilt. 

            "The Hill Organization, which you currently work for, was once responsible for the breeding and genetic re-engineering of children," he said blandly. "The group I work for is attempting to find these children so that the Hill Organization may not reap the rewards for what they have sewn. You are one of the most skilled infiltrators in the system." He didn't need to say what it was that he specifically wanted. It was all very, very clear to her what would be required. For a moment, however, she stood and watched him – it wasn't that she wanted to betray the Hill Organization. They had given her a job, and trained her, they paid her and housed her, and her mentor, Macduff, had been the one to give her Donalbain, who was her constant companion. But Macduff was dead, long since taken by the darkness that claims everyone,  and her new superiors… well, with any luck, they had sent someone to kill her, since she had failed her mission. 

            "How do I get in contact with your organization?" she questioned quietly, slowly letting her hand fall back to her side. He gave a firm nod.

            "You already have a way," he answered. Donalbain gave a sudden, low hiss, drawing Meia's attention to him. The small cat was all but spitting in the direction of the newcomer, his back arched, every hair on end. It was so unlike the felitty that she turned back – the boy was gone. Meia sword loudly and drew her knife without even thinking. In the shadows of the early morning sunlight, the blade glittered like the dangerous tool it was, sharp and deadly. The muscles in her form arm twitched, causing the tattoo that traced her pale skin to twitch, like leaves in the wind. For minutes on end, she stood in that position, waiting for an attack that would not come…


	2. File 2

Project: Intelligence Subject: Meia 

File #2

            The door fell open with a low creak, and light fell across the dark, dusty floor. Meia heaved a sigh – another job, another apartment, another mess, another life. She was most worried about the "another mess" part.         

            "Come on, Donalbain," she sighed, heaving her duffel bag in through the door. The cat, which was perched, asleep, on her shoulder, lifted his head and yawned. "Check this place out, felitty-kitty – what a dump." Everything was black, except for small squares that were a lighter black. Meia swore when she realized that they were. She dropped the duffel on the floor and trotted to the nearest one. True to her fears, they were windows, painted over with black. She swore again and crossed her arms over her chest as Donalbain carefully leapt from his perch to the windowsill. He sniffed the paint window carefully, then sneezed and jumped down.

            "Exactly," agreed Meia. "Well, at least we have a project now. This job is going to keep us in the area awhile." She looked over at the felitty, who had found something much more interesting than her in one of the far corners. His pale fur stood out against the darkness like the skin of a ghost and Meia grinned at him. "Whatever it is, Donalbain, don't you dare eat it." He didn't even look up as she crossed back to the door and flipped a switch. Light flooded the room, a thick, yellow light, from the permanent fixture in the ceiling. The room proved to be a very dark royal purple, instead of the black she had originally thought, but it wasn't much of an improvement. Meia visibly gagged. "Thank god for small miracles," she muttered, pulling the duffel bag further into the room, "like company credit cards, right?" Donalbain sat back on his haunches, his ears twitching back and forth. After a moment of serious thought, he dashed across the painted wooden floor to the other, unexplored corner. Meia left the bag where it was, in the very center of the room, and went back into the hallway, returning with two suitcases and a backpack that she added to the pile. From the biggest of the suitcases she pulled out a thin black messenger bag, and, after a moment of digging, she seemed content with what it held.

            "Come on, you little monster," she said to Donalbain. "Let's go find some industrial strength paint stripper, a can of cream blue paint, and possibly some big, strong dumb guy to help us." Donalbain mewed his protest, but he seemed content enough to sit on her shoulder after a moment of adjusting. Meia shut the door tightly behind her and locked it with the key that hung from a ribbon on her wrist. 

            Outside, away from the stale air of the old/new apartment, Meia paused to adjust her jacket and drop the key into the bag. This was a larger city than the last one she had occupied – it boasted a grand total of 750 000 people or so her research had told her. It also boasted the summer homes of several well known politicians, diplomats, senators, would-be-leaders, and soon-to-be higher ups. It also boasted all their potential mates, of the permanent, temporary, and one night-stand kind. Her presence was already inconsequential. Donalbain, on the other hand, drew more than a few glances. Felitty's, even though they were not a recent genetic breakthrough, were still rare enough that to see one on the shoulder of a roughly dressed girl coming from a rough looking apartment building. Felitty's were one of several genetically altered breeds of cat that never grew to more than six inches in length, but otherwise looked exactly like a normal cat. Donalbain was full grown, and had been for a few years, and measured roughly five inches, which was average size for his kind. He was Meia's constant companion and always with her, even when he drew attention to her, as he was now. 

            "Excuse me," implored Meia to an elderly gentleman who was staring quite openly at the both of them. "Can you tell me where I can find a home and garden store?" The man's eyes widened and Meia was almost sure he would just brush her off and keep walking, but instead, he pointed her in the direction of down the street and even gave her a very helpful name – "Kala Elisabeth Winner".

            Meia managed to find the shop, though it was partially obscured by a larger building labeled "Home Depot". At the sight of the home and garden giant, Meia stopped, and frowned, but decided to follow the man's advice and go, instead, to "Home Economics", a grey brick building that sat in the shadow of the first one. Out front of the glass door stood a woman, idly sweeping at the dirt that gathered on the sidewalk. She smiled at Meia approached.

            "Good afternoon, miss," she said cheerfully, making Meia smile.

            "And to you," she answered, bowing her head. "I'm looking for a Kala Winner – would you know where she is?" At this, the other woman smiled and pulled open the door.

            "I'm Kala," she answered. "Please, won't you come in?" Meia opened her mouth to say something, when a ringing interrupted her from her messenger bag. She smiled sheepishly at the blonde hair matron and reached in to draw out her white phone. It was a number she did not recognize, but, at the same time, one she had been expecting.

            "Meia." It was her usual, customary greeting, one that had served her well through the years, and the voice that greeted her back was one of the same.

            "I found all of that bull shit you were looking for, Maye," it said calmly. "_Now_ will you explain to me what it's for?"

            "Just wire me the documents, please," answered Meia as calmly as she could. It was a secure line, but the area around her was not. "I'll tell you later, I promise." The voice heaved a heavy sigh and Meia could almost see the speaker shaking his head in frustration.

            "You disgust me, you… _you_," he stated grimly. "Fine, I'll wire you the damn files, but you owe me one, understand?" 

            "I understand, I promise," she said, before hanging up. She was not one for salutations of any kind – they were almost utterly useless. Kala Winner smiled warmly at her and Meia stepped up onto the sidewalk and into the building. "Sorry about all of that," she said calmly, as she entered into the warmth of the building. "Business and everything." Kala nodded her understanding, but seemed to have nothing to say in return. At least not to that.

            "So what can I help you with?" she asked as she lead Meia past a row of hanging plants. Donalbain reached up to bat at a vine and almost lost his balance, catching himself at the last moment with his claws on her shoulder. Meia winced, but didn't draw attention to it.

            "I just moved into a new apartment downtown," she answered, stopping to inspect a small potted rose bush. "And it's really a mess. In the very least, it needs a new coat of paint, but the old one will have to come off. And I need something to strip pain from window glass. And possibly someone to help me with all of this." _Especially because I'll be stalking victims all day_, she added to herself, shaking her head. _I need a new line of work._ She frowned. Well, that wasn't true. She _did_ have a new line of work, a new mission, one almost completely separate from her work with the Hill Organization.

            "Well, most kinds of paint strippers will be safe with glass," Kala answered thoughtfully, stopping at the end of the row, "so we'll be able to find you something that can do both. We have quite a few brands of paint for doing over, as well as primer and everything else. And as for the help…" She made a contemplative noise in her throat. "I think I may have someone who can help you, if you'll let him."

            "Him?" inquired Meia suspiciously, glancing up. Kala turned around and nodded, grinning broadly. 

            "My brother, Quatre," she answered. "He's in a town for a few days, to visit me and my family. He'd love to help. Let me go get him." Kale was gone before Meia could protest, leaving the girl and her felitty in an aisle full of plants. Meia exchanged a glance with her companion and could only shrug. What could she do, tell Kala Winner know? She had, after all, requested someone to help her. 

            "Here we are," came Kala's cheerful voice, as she rounded a corner with a boy in tow. No, not quite a boy, but at the same time, not quite even a young man. He seemed to be right at that edge, hesitating. His hair was the same pale blonde as the shopkeeper's, and his eyes the same blue, and while there was a light of brightness in them (his eyes), as there was in hers, there was something… darker. Something hidden, some kind of shadow that obscured the light from a distance. Meia pressed her lips into a thin line – this would be an interesting project.

            "Quatre, this is…" Kala trailed off uncertainly, "Meia?" she attempted. Meia gave a firm nod.

            "I'm Meia. It's nice to meet you, Quatre." She held out her hand and he shook it firmly, a warm smile on his face. After the socially acceptable amount of time allotted for such a greeting, his eyes flickered down, then back up, and a chill raced down her spine. He had seen her tattoo, and it hadn't elicited the usual reaction that it usually did. In fact, he didn't seem to be curious about it at all.

            "It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Meia," he said quietly, drawing his hand away. Meia pulled hers back as well and self-consciously tugged the sleeve of her shirt down further. Kala, who seemed to have missed the exchange entirely, smiled brightly.

            "There, now that we're all friends, let's find these things that you need and Quatre will help you get them home." With that said, she all but skipped off around the corner of the aisle, leaving Quatre and Meia alone. They stood there, for a moment, until Donalbain gave a plaintive mew and nudged his head against his owner's cheek. Quatre's eyes went to the felitty and he smiled.

            "You have a very cute felitty," he said, almost idly. Meia shrugged, carefully, so as not to spill her little friend.

            "He was a present," she answered, reaching up and taking Donalbain off of her shoulder so that she could cradle him against her chest. "His name is Donalbain."

            "As in Donalbain, the son of King Duncan?" inquired the blonde boy, slightly surprised. "I didn't realize anyone still read Shakespeare."

            "I love Shakespeare," Meia shot back, defensive because her intelligence had just been challenged. "I have hard copies of all of his plays, and the sonnets." Donalbain gave a grumble as she held him tighter, and she loosened her grip slightly. "I also have a disk on me with all of his work." Quatre nodded and his grin became less warm, but somehow more friendly.

            "I've loved Shakespeare since I was little," he said, taking a step forward. "My sisters used to read it to me all the time. My favorite play is Midsummer Night's Dream." Meia's jaw dropped – this… this little strangling read Shakespeare?

            "That's my favorite too!" she said excitedly, settling Donalbain back onto her shoulder. "I especially love the part where-"

            "Meia, how in the world can he help you paint your apartment if you won't even come pick out a color?" Meia jumped as Kala rounded the corner behind her and Donalbain slid from her shoulder with a yowl of indignation. Quatre lunged forward and caught the felitty before it hit the floor, ending up on one knee of the unfinished cement. Meia snatched the felitty from his hands when he offered it up to her and kissed the furry head with a relieved sigh.

            "You have a claws for a reason, dumb kitty," she said sharply, placing it back on her shoulder. She nodded her thanks to Quatre. "He's too small to have survived that fall, so… thank you." All Quatre did was nod in return. Before anyone could say anything else, there came another ringing from the depths of Meia's messenger bag. She reached into it and pulled out her white phone – the number was, again, one she did not recognize. She was becoming quite popular with random people today.

            "Meia," she greeted, in a calm voice. There was a momentary pause, then,

            "Meia, this is the Preventers. What do you have for us?" Ah, the _other_ phone call she had been expecting. This was fine timing, as well – okay, not _really_, but it was temporarily getting her out of an uncomfortable situation.

            "Do you have a vidphone I may use?" Meia asked Kala, removing the phone from her ear and covering the mouthpiece with her hand. Kala nodded and motioned for the younger woman to follow her. She lead Meia around to the front of the store, than to a door that was behind the counter. In the back, on the edge of a dusty work bench, sat an older style vidphone that was, thankfully, equipped with a converter for hand held phones. Kala even had the courtesy to leave her alone.

            "People are far too trusting," commented Meia to herself as she set her cell phone into the converter. The machine turned itself on after that and the screen faded from a silent grey to the picture of a slightly anxious looking blonde woman. Meia gave a nod of her head.

            "Good afternoon, Preventers," she said formally. "Who am I speaking to?"


	3. File 3

Project: Intelligence Subejct: Meia 

File #3

            "One… two… three!" Meia and Quatre threw all of their combined weight forward, and up, and, with the sickening sound of splintering wood, the window popped open, allowing a fresh breeze to seep in and wash away the harsh odors of the paint stripper. Sunlight poured in as well, brightening the room immensely, and, with what seemed a joyful meow, Donalbain jumped up into the windowsill and curled up in the sunlight on the sill. Meia and Quatre looked at each other, then started to laugh.

            "All right!" announced Meia proudly, wiping her hand across the back of her forehead. The stifling room was already so much cooler because of the fresh air. "That's one window down, three to go, and then – the walls." Quatre even grimaced at that last listing – the walls and the floor were both projects neither of them were looking forward to, especially since it had been discovered that the paint stripper wouldn't work on the walls. That left them with the choice of painting over the color, which would or would not work, depending on how purple Meia preferred her walls to be. 

            It wasn't going to be fun, that was for sure.

            "Let's finish the windows first," agreed Quatre, scrubbing his hands on the canvas work pants Kala had given him. It was truly a strange situation, this – this was his job, helping this girl, his job in more ways than one, and it was becoming more interesting everyday. Especially since, for some odd reason, he had the feeling that the felitty was one to him – Donalbain, of all creatures, seemed to be the smartest cat he'd ever met.

            "I'll take the two over on the other wall," said Meia, grabbing a clean rag from the massive pile that Kala had donated. Using scrapers would ruin the windows, so rags and elbow grease were the next best thing. "Donalbain, don't fall out of that window, do you understand?" The felitty was already half asleep, laying on his back with front paws drawn up to his chest and he only blinked up lazily at his owner, who rolled her eyes. "Be that way. If you fall out of that window and break something, you're taking yourself to the vet." Meia nodded to show she was serious and it was all Quatre could do to now laugh at her. Not everyone he knew treated their pet as if it was human – but, then again, Donalbain didn't seem to be just an ordinary felitty. 

            It seemed only a few moments later when Meia gave a grunt and pushed open another window, this one without the same sound of splintering wood. She took a step back and nodded proudly at her accomplishment. Then, her phone rang. Quatre had become accustomed to her phone ringing at the most inopportune times, as well as her swearing and muttering as she answered it. It was her white phone today, the one that constantly sat in the cradle of the older model vidphone Meia had purchased at some kind of secondhand shop. Quatre dutifully turned all of his attention to his window as she pulled the phone from the cradle and answered it.

            "Meia." Donalbain leapt down from the windowsill and stretched, his tiny pin-prick digging into the paint flooring. He trotted over to Meia's side, head held high and his tail twitched curiously. "Understood. So I'm to meet him at seven? Thank you." She hung up the phone and replaced it on the cradle. There was a momentary silence, then Meia heaved a sigh. "I hate blind dates." Quatre smirked, but said nothing – Meia, for all that she was, was a horrible liar. He'd known her secret almost as long as she had, hence why he just happened to be in the area where she was stationed. No, Meia wasn't the only one "on in the inside" of the Hill Organization, but, as she wouldn't out right join the Preventers, they had needed to give her something that would keep her in constant contact with them. Infiltration was always fun, or so Quatre had been told. 

            "Someone from work?" Quatre inquired innocently, as Meia started on the fourth window, kneeling on the floor at the very edge of his vision. He thought he saw her stop, and look over at him, but when he turned his head, she was concentrated on the paint-covered glass.

            "One of the office secretaries has a cousin who's in town for a few days," said Meia, shrugging nonchalantly. "I'm meeting him at seven tonight, at a place in the downtown district. _Via…_uh… _Via Ava_?" Quatre nodded and turned his attention back to his particular window.

            "They have great chicken fettuccini," he said, as idly as she had. Well, well, well, this was certainly interesting information. She had a "date". Someone from the Hill Organization?

            "I'll keep that in mind, thanks." Silence descended again and they worked quietly at their respective windows, until both were done and flung open. In the sunlight of the afternoon, it was easy to see how dark the room really was, with the royal purple that coated the walls. Meia made a gagging sound as there was a knock at the door.

            "The last tenants were colorblind," she theorized, crossing the floor, dirty rag still in hand. Donalbain, who had curled up on the floor in the first available sunbeam, suddenly leapt up and lunged for her ankle, screeching. Meia stumbled as the tiny beast latched himself onto her skin and about as ungracefully as she should, ran straight into the door. She pushed herself up and, reaching down, all but ripped the felitty from her leg.

            "What in the _hell_ is wrong with you, Donalbain?!" she growled, raising the felitty up to eye level. He spat again and squirmed in her hold, his ears laid completely flat against his skull. Quatre walked up to Meia's side and carefully removed the wriggling feline from her tightening grip.

            "I'll answer it," he said, "you go put something on your ankle." She blinked at him, then tilted her head and looked down at the rivulets of red tracing thin tracks down her skin. She cringed.

            "Fucking felitty," she muttered, shaking her head and limping back to the bathroom, which was hidden by a wall partition at the back of the apartment. Shaking his head, Quatre turned back to the door, Donalbain firmly held in one hand, even while the felitty still struggled vehemently in his grip. He pulled open the door and tucked his other hand, and the cat, behind his back.

            "May I help you?" he inquired of the two men standing outside in the hallway. Both were much taller than he was, by a good foot at least, with close-cropped dark hair and scars that were a strange reflection of each other – on one, his scars were on the right side of his face, a crisscrossed jumble of thick white tissue, and, on the other, the same, only on the left side of his face. It was this one who spoke.

            "Maye," he stated gruffly, pressing his lips together in a thin line. Quatre stood for a moment, waiting for more, but when none came, he shook his head.

            "No one by that name lives here," he answered, though he knew truthfully that it was Meia's codename. He wasn't about to give her away, especially not to these two.  Something about them set off that little voice inside his mind that screamed "BAD GUYS!"

"Okay," answered the one with the scars on the right of his face. That being said, they turned and left. Quatre stood in the door a moment longer, then peeked his head out in time to see them lumbering down the stairs at the end of the hallway. He stepped back into the room and was in the process of shutting the door when Meia come from behind the partition, a series of tiny band-aids stuck to her skin.

            "Anyone important?" she inquired, taking the now quiet, but sullen, Donalbain from Quatre's hands. Quatre shrugged.

            "Wrong house," he said, brushing the fine layer of cat hair from his hands. "Two guys looking for someone named "Maye". I told them she didn't live here." Meia looked up from her felity and stared wide eyed at the blonde haired boy.

            "We need to leave," she said, quite suddenly. Quatre had already assumed as much, but her abrupt change in personality was more than a little confusing – she went into an instant whirlwind of activity, digging her jacket from a pile of laundry, grabbing the white phone from the vidphone cradle, then her messenger bag from the table. Donalbain went into her pocket with an indignant yowl, but Meia didn't seem to hear him at all. Finally, Quatre's world-renowned patience hit an end point.

            "Meia!" e grtHe  asdfjHeasdfHe grabbed her arm and made her face him. "What's wrong?!" She opened her mouth to answer him, or at least to yell at him, when they heard simultaneous thumps that made the floor beneath them vibrate. Quatre released Meia in an act of total surprise – standing behind her were the two bruisers who had, only moments ago, been walking down the hallway stairs. Slowly, Meia turned.

            "Telemachus," she breathed, her shoulders tensing, "Nicodemus, when did they let you out of the ward?" The one with the scars on the left side of his face took a step forward and emitted a low growl that almost sounded like her name. She took a step backward. "Telemachus?" The other one stepped forward, as well, his hands clenching into tight fists at his side. "… shit. Quatre, run!" She whirled and shoved him towards the door as Telemachus roared and lunged. Both of the smaller humans were in the hallway when they heard a thud and the wall to their right dented outward. Meia gave Quatre another insistent shove, almost pushing him down the stairs. 

            "Who are they?!" yelled Quatre, as he jumped the last step to land on the floor near the apartment door. Meia stepped down next to him and paused to look back up.

            "Telemachus and Nicodemus," she answered, shaking her head in a way that seemed sad. "Old friends of mine. Get outside, Quatre. They can't do anything in a public place. We'll be safe on the street…" 


	4. File 4

Project: Intelligence Subject: Meia 

File 4

"So…"  
"So…"  
Meia had decided long ago that Starbucks, of all places, was the best of cafes in which to hide and discuss pertinent information. The wiring that ran through the walls, set up for all forms of communication, made it so that no bugs or tracing could function properly. And the people who frequented it were often so trapped in their own worlds that they rarely noticed what was happening around them. So long as they had their long-winded coffee drinks, and perhaps someone as self-important as themselves, they were good.   
"So… you're an assassin."  
"Yup."  
It had not been an easy conversation. With the attack of Telemachus and Nicodemus on her half-finished apartment, Meia had been forced to divulge in Quatre the secret that was supposed to be closely guarded. Well, one of them. Quatre, to his credit, seemed to be taking it well enough.   
"And those two men?"  
"I mentored them, a long time ago," she answered, looking down into her Italian Soda. Donalbain, who had apparently sworn off such drinks, was napping quietly on Quatre's head. It was a humorous sight, but Meia had no laughter in her. "A long, long time ago, when they first joined on with the organization. They're older than I am, but I've been training since I was four, so I have more experience." She leaned forward on the table and her shoulders sagged as she dropped her face into her hands. "Six months ago, Nicodemus began having breakdowns, off the field, of course. Telemachus started taking jobs himself, and Nico stayed with me at base. I left, for a job, and…" She stopped a minute and shook her head. "I came back and everything'd gone to hell. Nico was locked up in the psychiatric ward, and Telemachus with him, but no one would tell me why. I still don't know." She took a long, slow drink of her soda, still shaking her head. "Quatre, you have to understand, those _weren't_ my boys. Something happened to them, and I aim to find out what."  
"Is that such a good idea?" inquired Quatre, reaching up and carefully removing the sleeping felitty from his head before settling it in his lap. "Miss Meia, they could have been sent by your organization. If you go back, they may try again."  
"I know, Quatre, I know, but Nicodemus and Telemachus…" She trailed off, then heaved a heavy sigh. "You're right, of course. I've been digging too deep. I need to back off and get out of sight for a while."  
"This will sound presumptuous of me, Miss Meia, but you're welcome to come back to the desert with me," said Quatre, looking down at the still-sleeping feline in his lap. Meia tilted her head to the side inquisitively and Quatre heaved a small sigh. "I'm sorry, but I cannot keep lying to you, regardless of my mission requirements." He looked up and watched confusion bloom on her face.  
"Your… _what_?" she asked in a calm voice that sounded as if she were forcing air through her teeth. He almost winced, but didn't - if she was angry with him, well, she hadn't exactly been completely truthful, now had she?  
"Miss Meia, our meeting was not entirely coincidental," he admitted, almost sheepishly. "I was sent by the Preventers to watch you, discreetly, but Kala interfered. No, she doesn't know that I was here, originally, to find you, but if she hadn't insisted, I could have followed the guidelines of my original mission. As it is, I've failed most of those, so I might as well fail the others." She was still silent in return to his statement, so he continued on. "I know that you are meeting one of the other Preventers tonight, at seven," he stated, insistently. "You should still meet him, and from there decide where you want to go. The Preventers will offer you protection and-"  
"_Protection_?" The word was hissed out between clenched teeth. "I do not need _protection_, Quatre Raberba Winner."  
"Those men were three times your size!" he argued. "Miss Meia, _please_-"  
"Telemachus and Nicodemus are rookies!" she seethed. "I can handle myself against _rookies_."  
"Telemachus and Nicodemus no longer exist," stated a calm, even voice over Meia's shoulder. There was a scrap of chair and a third joined their party. Quatre's face lit up and he gave a relieved smile. Meia, to her credit, didn't give the scream of frustration that was pressing against her throat.  
"Why am I not surprised to see _you_?" she asked sharply, glaring at the familiar youth. Donalbain's head peeked above the table edge, dazed and sleepy, but he gave a low, warning growl at the sight of the young man who had previously accousted Meia near the fountain only a week before.   
"Meia, the warrant for your death was issued by the Hill Organization twenty minutes ago," stated the young man with the dark green eyes. "Every assassin you've ever known will be after you. Quatre's compound is the safest place for you."  
"I don't want to be _safe_." Meia spat the last word as if it made her sick to even think it. "I _want_ to find out what happened to Telemachus and Nico-"  
"And you won't if you're _dead_," returned Quatre, sharply enough for Meia took look taken aback.   
"I can't just abandon them!" she said defensively. "They're my responsibility-"  
"Then you need to have patience," spoke up the other boy. Meia looked over at him and narrowed her eyes.  
"Who the hell _are_ you, anyway?" she questioned. "You never told me."  
"My name is Trowa Barton," he replied, "and I am a Preventer, like Quatre. You and I were supposed to meet later this evening, however, things have changed."  
"Obviously," answered Meia, dryly. "Look, thank you for all of your proffered help, but I think I can handle myself, especially against Telemachus and Nicodemus."  
"And Hera?" inquired Trowa, lifting an eyebrow. "Hermes, Hades… Demetrius?" Something passed over her face, a blankness that drained all of the color from her skin. She heaved a sigh and dropped her face into her hands.  
"Good lord, I'm _screwed_." Quatre and Trowa exchanged a glance, but neither said a word, even as Meia lifted her head from her hands. "I don't really have a choice, do I? I go with you, or I get killed." She was quiet a moment, then shook her head. "I think I'd rather go with you."


End file.
